A Belgravia Marriage
by Scarlet Secret
Summary: Some women live together and some lie together and some do both. Rosamund/Vera. Femslash.


A/N: For all the Rosera shippers! Happy Femslash February! (This started life as a drabble...it got a bit away from me.)

* * *

Vera hadn't expected John to stay forever but he left sooner than she thought he would and so she decided to rent out the house. She can always find somewhere smaller for her, somewhere more _appropriate_ Mrs Bartlett from down the road says and if she thinks that Vera can't hear the silent _somewhere not built for a family _in her tone then the old bat needs one more clout about the ears to clean them out than Vera thought she did. But whether she likes it or not Mrs Bartlett is right so she leaves the house on a cold, crisp Monday morning, fully intending to find an agent to rent it out for her so she can carry on existing. She's survived with Johnny and without him and so she's accustomed to a day's hard work but she's rather enjoyed playing the role of a wife again, taking in washing and mending but staying inside the home for most of the day to make sure things perfect for when he gets back. And even if he's not coming back this time she doesn't fancy going back to scrubbing Susan Flintshire's walls and floors for her supper again, so renting seems ideal.

Unfortunately within half a day it becomes apparent that there isn't a single soul in London that will actually rent the bloody place from her – apparently it's something to do with the deeds, deeds she doesn't technically have – and neither can she sell the creaky old shack – again, stupid fucking deeds apparently – so going back to work really is her only option. Lady Flintshire won't take her back, of that much she's certain, especially not after she made off with her precious son's cufflinks. So she can't get a reference either. The chances of their being another convenient Crawley family member who was hiring and might respond to the Bates name was slim to none and Vera settled into a cubby in the corner of the pub with a deep sense of disillusionment.

She sipped her half of ale, grasping in her pocket the coins that she still had that might pay for another one later and reached into her other pocket for her cigarettes. Thusly lit she inhaled sharply and flicked open the magazine on the table. Normally she wouldn't waste her money on such bloody nonsense but needs must at the moment and _The Lady_ might well be her best bet. Times might be tough after the war but there had to be someone who needed a housemaid or a cook: she hated the thought of the former, but it was much more likely than the latter, which she preferred immensely but doubted she would be able to bluff her way into without a reference.

On the table she idly moved her fingernail in the same loops that characterised Susan Flintshire's handwriting and decided she could write something convincing enough if she tried, but it couldn't be anything too effusive or else people would get suspicious. Her eyes flicked over the situations wanted, sighing deeply to herself when she saw nothing but positions for junior maids and nannies – she had promised herself long ago that she would never look after other people's children – until her eyes finally fell on-

Perfect!

Lady Rosamund Painswick…the name rang a bell and somewhere in the back of her mind she remembered a calling card at Lady Flintshire's house and a mass of red curls that her mistress had complained about eternally. Another Crawley then, but at least one that was already in the city and a lady's maid was a better position than any she'd had before.

Vera smiled and finished her drink quickly, tossing the magazines into her bag for later perusal in case there were new hairstyles to learn, and left the smoky bar. She had two letters to write this afternoon.

* * *

"You're married I see?"

"Yes m'lady."

Lady Rosamund Painswick nodded and looked down at the resume again. It was neat and clear and included a reference that looked very much like the same scrawl she had to wade through every time her mama insisted that she and Cousin Susan should be friendlier and they were obliged to swap letters until Violet forgot. It was even composed in the same endless loop of sentences that Susan preferred and Rosamund merely glanced through it, picking up words like _diligent _and _conscientious_ without really reading them.

There was precious little to do with being a lady's maid but if Rosamund knew her cousin then all of her housemaids would have been called upon to fiddle with that mop of hair of hers on the off-chance that one of them might have the magic touch and be able to make it look presentable. She glanced up from the letter and caught Mrs Bates watching her eagerly, her eyes flashing with something like triumph when Rosamund placed the letter back down on the table between them.

"And Mr Bates?"

If Lady Rosamund had made the intuitive leap to connect her to the Earl's valet then Vera had to admit she was doing a good impression of someone who was none of the wiser. Bates wasn't an uncommon name of course and neither was it that extraordinary that there might be a brother and sister whose retainers shared a surname but Vera had thought the connection to Lady Flintshire might give her away. Lady Rosamund remained cordial though, with the smallest hint of a smile and an enquiring tilt to the head that settled Vera's nerves.

"He's out of the picture m'lady."

"The war?"

It would be terribly easy to say yes. So many women had lost their husbands in the conflict and had been forced back into work and if she'd had the nerve to bluff her way through with the lie then Vera wouldn't have hesitated to give Lady Rosamund the convenient answer the lady herself had supplied. But Vera could see how easily it would be found out. All it would take was Lady Grantham coming for a visit, or Lady Mary for that matter, and they'd bring their maids and Anna certainly knew who she was and she'd crossed the sour looking O'Brien in the servant's hall at Downton so she'd be found out either way. And that was without even considering what would happen when Lady Rosamund went up to Downton and expected her to mingle with the servants!

No, there was only one thing for it and it was something that Vera truly hated doing if she could avoid it. She was going to have to tell the truth. Partially.

"No m'lady." She licked her lips and took a deep breath, keeping her head slightly bowed and staring at the other woman's shoes to give herself the look of someone ashamed of what she was about to say. If her instincts were right then Lady Rosamund knew nothing of what had been going on. After everything Johnny had told her about Lord Grantham and what she had guessed about Lady Mary she couldn't quite see either of them ringing up the redhead to keep her informed of a possible scandal, which gave her one shining window of opportunity to get this woman on her side. It wasn't quite as useful as if Lady Grantham herself was on her side but Lady Rosamund might just be enough to remind John that she could make friends in high places too.

"He's taken up with another woman up in Yorkshire."

She risked a glance up at Lady Rosamund and was pleased to see her mouth had opened into a small o of surprise.

"She's a housemaid at…well, at Downton Abbey."

Well-groomed eyebrows furrowed and Vera allowed her a moment to connect the dots, making herself sniff as she reached into her sleeve for the handkerchief she'd put there earlier for just this purpose.

"Anna? So you were married to Robert's Bates?"

"Actually," Vera sniffed and lifted her head. "We're still married. He wants a divorce but I know he'll leave me with nothing. I tried to sell our house so we could share the money and move on, but I couldn't find a solicitor who'd help me."

Vera surprised herself with the tears that formed in her eyes and realised with a tremendous stab of annoyance that they were fake at all and neither was the waver in her voice.

"I can't even rent it, so I need to work."

She managed a small smile and looked up through sodden eyelashes at Lady Rosamund as the redhead got to her feet, very conscious of the fact that she had known this woman for all of ten minutes and not only let on that she was the abandoned wife of Lord Grantham's trusted valet, but had also cried in her presence, something she was sure ladies like Lady Rosamund didn't exactly prize in a servant.

"I'm sorry m'lady, I don't mean to embarrass you."

"Oh don't be silly, you'll soon learn that I am not easily embarrassed."

_Soon?_

Vera shifted in her seat as Rosamund handed her a glass of something amber she'd poured while Vera had been wiping her eyes and surreptitiously poking herself in the eye to keep the tears coming and the redhead gracefully sat on the sofa next to her. Long thin fingers wrapped around her cold-chapped hands and Rosamund smiled.

"Now what was this about a house?"

* * *

As it turned out the solicitors Lady Rosamund knew were considerably more useful than the dodgy agents Vera had tried to get help from before and within a week her things had been moved, the house had been rented out without John having anything to do with it and Vera was installed in the bedroom next to Rosamund's with a good wage and a little bit coming in on the side too. All in all, she thought it was a miracle the changes a fortnight could make and it was almost enough to make her take up churchgoing again.

The bedroom had been a surprise at first. After the initial interview Lady Rosamund had been kind and asked her to begin as soon as possible and Vera had genuinely thought that the servant's quarters were being done up because she could think of no other reason why her bed had such pretty lace-trimmed sheets or why the wide window afforded a view of the greenery in the centre of Eaton Square. It was like stepping into a dream; true, her existence in her mother-in-law's house had been far from squalid but there were small luxuries that in her world were unnecessary but in Lady Rosamund's were part of the scenery. She hadn't liked to ask why she was being treated so well but her face had given her away and Lady Rosamund had laughed, a soft chuckle that made her feel warmer inside than she had since long before Johnny and a little part of the anger she clung to every day like armour was scratched by the sound.

"If I was hiring a lady's maid for the housekeeper then I'd put her next to the housekeeper's room. As it is I think it makes a great deal more sense for you to be close to my room. Don't you agree?"

Vera had, but only idly, not really paying attention as she wondered if her clothes would fill up even one half of the wardrobe in the corner of the room.

She sank into the soft mattress at night, the cool, clean sheets like silk against her skin and almost making her embarrassed at how old her nightdress was. Over the years it had faded to a horrible, grey colour and against the snow-white sheets it looked duller than ever and she resolved as she buried her face in the lavender scented pillow that the first thing she'd buy once she'd paid off the people she owed money to was a pristine, lacy thing that was warm and pretty and it was with that thought that she fell asleep for the first few nights.

A little way into the second week her dreams were disturbed by a noise she placed in an instant. Crying. The only thing that surprised her was that it wasn't her own and Vera slipped her legs from the warm bed before she could convince herself to mind her own business and pulled a shawl around her shoulders as she edged closer to the door that connected her room to Rosamund's. She pressed her ear against the wood and heard the sound quite clearly and sighed to herself. She had known this woman for next to no time but in that time she'd been showered with the sort of kindness she'd always imagined their sort incapable of and she couldn't in all good conscience leave Lady Rosamund to her sorrow.

Shivering in the cold air and wrapping her shawl tighter around herself Vera ran a hand over her hair, making sure it was still in its braid if she was going to be seen. Her hair did have a horrible habit of escaping and turning wild in the night. When they'd been young and newly married she'd worn it loose every night, and not worn much else, and she'd found it tangled in the morning but it was worth it for the look in her husband's eyes when she'd been on top of him, hair flying everywhere, and then later, before things had become truly terrible, she'd braided it the night before but woken still in tangles to find that John had freed her hair in the night to run his fingers through it. Vera pressed her eyes closer together tightly and banished her memories - they weren't going to help anyone at the moment.

She knocked gently on the door and listened carefully. When she received no response but the continuation of the crying Vera opened the door as quietly as she could, slipping her head around the door.

To say that Lady Rosamund's bedroom put her own lovely one to shame would have been an understatement. In retrospect Vera thought that from the first look of the lush furnishings downstairs she should have guessed that the bedroom would be a barely tasteful medley of lace and fur, silk hangings on the four-poster bed with roses carved into the posts, the softest ermine covering the sheets for added warmth and dyed Egyptian cotton covered the goose feather filled pillow and mattress. The soft pile on the floor was almost distractingly comfortable against her feet as she edged closer to the woman who was being clearly lit by the moonlight streaming through a gap in the curtains that covered the bay window.

"M'lady?"

Stillness reigned in the bedroom for a moment but Vera was at least now sure that Lady Rosamund had heard her. Perhaps this had been a bad idea? She knew full well what she'd have done to somebody if they'd dared to interrupt her during her night-time cry and indeed how she would have felt about somebody knowing that she allowed herself such a pitiful luxury, so chances were Lady Rosamund might not like it. Vera cursed herself: it had all been going so well too.

"What on you doing here?"

"I heard you." It sounded lame even to her but she pushed on, there was little point doing things by halves at this point and she was going to have to talk herself into a better position somehow. "And you were so kind to me when I was crying the other day that I didn't like to leave you."

Silently Vera congratulated herself on her cunning. There was no way Lady Rosamund could be too dismissive of her now!

In the moonlight she could see where the other woman was lying quite clearly and see the top of curly haired that had been wrestled into a braid earlier, but Lady Rosamund's face was still concealed by the height of her blankets and her position on the bed. Vera bit her lip. It was considerably more difficult to judge someone's thoughts when you couldn't see the face but she got the impression that the body under the sheets had lost some tension.

"That's very kind of you Vera."

She stepped closer, encouraged by not being sacked on the spot, until she could see a face that didn't look blotchy with tears in the moonlight and instead just filled with a terrible sorrow. She kneeled carefully by the bed and reached for Rosamund's hand.

"Is there anything I can do m'lady?"

Vera wanted to ask what was bothering her but didn't dare. Knowing her luck it would either be seen as being impertinent or else she'd have to sit and listen to a long story about someone else's terrible life. Although how terrible Lady Rosamund's life could possibly have been she wasn't sure and despite her usual lack of interest in other she decided she wouldn't mind listening if it came to it. It wasn't as though she wasn't being amply rewarded after all.

Rosamund sniffed and shuffled backwards on the bed, not letting go of Vera's hand as she moved further and further away. For a second Vera panicked that after all her good fortune so far she might now be about to find out that Lady Rosamund was actually a bloody lunatic, but she soon saw the invitation for what it was and hoped she was doing the right thing by sliding up and onto the bed herself. When Rosamund didn't gasp with horror she settled down and pondered whether she was supposed to say anything, but Rosamund didn't say or indeed do much and Vera lay on top of the furry throw in confusion and comfort. She was bloody cold though.

"No, this is silly."

Vera started and was half off the bed before Rosamund reached out a hand to stop her.

"Don't go. Get in I meant."

Doing as she was told was not a pre-requisite of Vera's character and she had always been rather proud of that fact and always thought it made her superior to the other servants because she at least could think for herself. Despite that she had absolutely no qualms about climbing into Lady Rosamund's luxurious, soft, expensive bed when instructed.

Neither of the spoke and eventually Lady Rosamund let go of her hand and fell asleep – which came first Vera wasn't sure – but she soon lost herself to the comfort of the bed too and fell asleep feeling marginally less alone if rather bamboozled.

* * *

Vera didn't sleep in her bed every night but Rosamund had found that the nights that she _did_ were becoming more frequent and the gaps between those nights was slimming down.

To begin with she'd thought of it on a whim. Too much wine with dinner, combined with a healthy dose of brandy as a nightcap and then her new maid being unexpectedly kind had made her think that the colossal gap that had been left in her life since Marmaduke had died might hurt less if she at least didn't have to sleep alone. And as with most of her best ideas, the influence of brandy seemed to have been a good thing.

When she'd woken up and found herself facing the back of a glossy, dark head she'd felt like the weight of loneliness inside her had been lifted slightly. It wasn't gone and there was no way of banishing the loss of Marmaduke away without dying herself and going to join him – something she had absolutely no intention of doing – but for whatever reason the lingering scent of lavender in Vera's hair had soothed her back to sleep. When she'd opened her eyes again it was to find her maid properly dressed and holding a tea tray and taking her lead from Vera she hadn't mentioned their night.

It was nothing of course. Vera had lost a husband too, she reminded herself, so perhaps there was something inside her that understood and sympathised with that need to be close to someone as you slept?

She'd considered it as a one-off and taken strength from the night, writing letters to friends and going out shopping and putting it from her mind. Despite her reservations about anyone that Susan had praised so highly Vera had proved to be an effective and efficient maid and she certainly suited Rosamund's requirements: she was always eager to listen to gossip and was rather adroit when it came to putting ensembles together. Plus after being so close to Vera's hair she had been gifted with enough time to admire quite how shiny it was and she'd had her maid make her the same potion to put on hers.

A week later she'd found herself crying again, the seemingly huge empty space in the bed making her heart ache and sure enough Vera had soon slipped into the room and wordlessly into the bed. Three nights later she acted pre-emptively, not wanting to wake up with puffy cheeks and when she felt the first tears beginning to form she left the warmness of her bed, intending to bring Vera into her bedroom but when she found the other woman she was in a deep sleep and Rosamund hated the thought of disturbing her.

The distance back to her great lonely bed seemed terrible and with a quick shifty look around the bedroom Rosamund slipped into the bed next to the other woman, immediately warmed by the close heat of another body, and fell asleep, shuffling closer under the covers.

* * *

"For goodness sake, you can hit the note with your voice, why can't you do in on the piano?"

Vera scowled at the criticism but Rosamund ignored her. Unlike any maid she had ever had before Vera was singularly unable to conceal her feelings, whether they were positive or not, and Rosamund found it rather refreshing. Her last maid had been a snake in the grass and the other women she'd interviewed before Vera had been a mix of the competency and slyness that always seemed to come part and parcel with lady's maids. There had been one in particular that she'd been tempted to hire, a woman with a spectacular reference and a quiet sort of style to her, but there had been something in Marigold Shore's eyes she'd distrusted.

Whether Vera knew it or not she was an open book to Rosamund. She'd subtly asked Cora what had been going on with the valet, on the pretext of saying her mama had mentioned it, and been given Cora's opinion on the subject, which was that according to O'Brien Mr Bates had probably treated his wife terribly and the wife had come back for him and somehow taken him from under Anna's nose. Between that occurrence and Vera turning up at her house Rosamund could deduce that something had gone wrong but she was quite sure that whatever had happened was going to stay between husband and wife; Vera never spoke about her husband and Rosamund couldn't help but notice how clouded the grey eyes became whenever he was mentioned. She could see for herself that Vera was no saint but she got the feeling Mr Bates was leading her brother on quite the merry dance…although no doubt Robert would say the same about Vera and her.

"I never learnt."

"I'm trying to teach you."

"Why?"

Every single bit of kindness went questioned. It didn't matter if she was coming home from shopping with an extra cream cake or passing along a scarf she'd bought on a whim that didn't fit with her complexion, Vera always looked like she didn't trust the gesture and Rosamund was becoming tired of it.

"I thought you said you liked music?"

"I do," Vera frowned at her own fingers and placed them back on the piano in imitation of Rosamund's. "I just meant why're you bothering?"

Rosamund wasn't sure. She had heard the other woman humming and found it pleasant and then caught her singing quietly to herself and being quite entranced. It was stupid really, that Vera had such a lovely latent talent for music without knowing the first thing about it while she'd had years of musical training without having the slightest bit of actual talent. She could play well enough, or at least it had been enough to placate Violet into thinking her daughter was learning to be a lady, but she couldn't sing a note. Cora was the polar opposite and when they'd been young women it had amused them to put on what they'd deemed the worst concerts ever performed for husbands that had been young and full of joy. Now Robert was a stick-in-the-mud, Marmaduke was dead and Cora never sang which left her with Vera and Rosamund was determined to get her playing.

"Why not?"

"Shouldn't you be giving me mending to do?"

Vera raised her eyebrow and looked at her sideways in the way that Rosamund found oddly beguiling and she smiled at the insolence. Oh she _could_ have hired any of the women that came but none of them would have been half as entertaining!

"Have I _ever_ given you mending?" She sighed with excessive emphasis.

"No, but I-"

"I'm sure you're very handy with a needle but I'll wait till I go up to Downton next. O'Brien's the best free seamstress in the country so there's no point wasting _your_ time."

Rosamund just about caught the corners of Vera's lips turning up into a smile as she returned to the music sheet that was propped up on the piano.

"Will we be going up there soon m'lady?"

Rosamund turned to meet Vera's gaze and wasn't sure if she was seeing hesitation or eagerness. It was the first time she hadn't been sure and she smiled tightly to cover the swell of nerves it gave her.

"I'll let you know. Not yet though."

She shuffled closer on the bench until she could place her fingers gently over Vera's. It felt distinctly different to the way it had when she'd been young and her piano teacher had done the same thing.

"Now, shall we?"

* * *

"Would it be terribly awkward for you?"

Vera nearly jumped out of her skin at the sudden question and brought her hand up to her chest. Her heart felt suddenly and painfully like it was beating in her ribcage and she frowned once she'd had a second to think about the question, not only because she was bloody confused over what Lady Rosamund was babbling about, but also because she hated being taken aback. She'd been sneaking in to see if Rosamund was sleeping properly as she'd taken to doing on the nights she didn't hear tears or feel a warm body climb in her bed and the lights being off had boded well before the voice had come out of nowhere in the dark.

"What?" She said, as she regained her composure and crossed the bedroom slowly, the familiar feeling carpet under her stockinged feet being lit up by the same full moon that had brightened the room a month before when she'd first come in here in the middle of the night.

"If we did go up to Downton? Only I've had a letter from Cora – something to do with Matthew feeling better – but I thought I might go up for the little celebration they were planning."

Vera felt the knot in her chest tighten. Two days ago she'd had a letter from Miss O'Brien telling her that John was back working at Downton Abbey and back with Miss Smith but she'd put it from her mind. He wasn't going anywhere after all and she was rather enjoying herself at Eaton Square; if she was going to look after someone, as a wife or a lady's maid, she would much rather it was Lady Rosamund for the moment. That being said, if John found it so easy to ignore _her_ then she would give him the same treatment back and there was no point doing it at all if he didn't know about it but at Downton she'd be sitting opposite him, a new fixture of the safe little world he thought he'd escaped to with Miss Smith. The thought cheered her.

"Feeling better?" Vera smirked. "He's a cripple isn't he? How did he manage to feel better?"

A burst of light came on and Rosamund rolled back into her place against the pillows as Vera blinked until her eyes adjusted. She had never admired Lady Flintshire exactly – as an employer she'd been fair enough, but as a lady she was sorely lacking in Vera's eyes. What was the point of having so much bloody money if you always looked such a state with your hair like rats tails and a face like a slapped arse? Lady Rosamund on the other hand never looked anything other than perfect. Her hair curled childishly around her forehead, the bulk of it pulled back into a braid draped over one shoulder giving her the look of a well-groomed cat. Blue eyes were always bright no matter the time of day and as much as Vera would have liked to put the smooth sheen of Rosamund's skin down to the expensive creams her lady bought she couldn't begrudge the other woman her attractiveness.

"God knows. Perhaps Lavinia's inspired him back to life?"

Rosamund smirked and Vera had to chuckle at the suggestive look in her lady's eyes. She'd seen Miss Lavinia Swire for herself a few weeks before when the poor thing had come to Rosamund's house for afternoon tea and sympathy and had thought she was a sad, pretty thing but she couldn't imagine her being the cause of a miraculous recovery.

"And they're having a party?"

She crossed the room for something to do, pulling the curtains closed properly to keep the cold night air out after making sure the window was secure. The metal latch was freezing against her fingers and when she was done she crossed her arms under her breasts, trying to warm her hands by holding them close to her body and wrapping the woollen shawl tighter around her body. Rosamund's eyes were unashamedly on her and Vera fought not to blush too much, but this was the first time Lady Rosamund would have gotten a good look at her old nightdress and she couldn't help but feel annoyed at how ratty it was. Rosamund wouldn't say anything of course but Vera was determined to be angry at the first sign of pity in the other woman's eyes. None came

"Not as such. Robert doesn't _do_ parties," thin lips twisted into another smirk and Vera fiddled with the bottom of her braid. "Occasionally he deigns to invite me up though."

"I'm sure they miss you when you're gone m'lady."

"You're very kind."

Vera nearly snorted at that but by pressing her lips together she managed to stop herself.

"Only to you m'lady."

Rosamund grinned at her and reached to the other side of her bed, pulling back the covers in a gesture that was at once domestic and familiar but set Vera's heart to racing and froze her to the spot. If Rosamund was aware of what she'd done she kept herself playful enough that she covered her nerves.

"But if I go up it'll mean you coming with me and I know things are _delicate_ still."

"That's putting it mildly m'lady."

Vera hesitated for a long moment, debating the best move. If she left now it was possible that the trust that had sprung up between them would soon disintegrate and she rather liked having Rosamund Painswick trust her. She doubted any other lady's maid in the country was treated half as familiarly as she was or that they'd be able to carry on in their usual way when they were up at Downton Abbey. And then there was John to worry about of course.

"Would it be terrible?"

Vera brushed off her nightdress for a moment before she slid into the welcoming bed, feeling distinctly odd for doing this in the light, with Rosamund looking at her with benign curiosity. She pulled the covers over her legs and leant back against the pillows hesitantly, turning her head to meet Rosamund's gaze with a small smile only to find the other woman looking at her like _she_ was the one behaving oddly. Christ, it wasn't like this was _normal_ was it?!

She'd shared beds all her life of course – a sister when she was growing up, another girl who was a housemaid in the same place as her when she was young, then John, then anyone who filled the gap – but Rosamund had a way of acting like this was all perfectly normal behaviour. Perhaps it was? Perhaps this was the great secret of being a lady's maid that that Scottish terrier of Lady Flintshire's and Miss O'Brien knew but never passed on to lesser servants?

Or perhaps Lady Rosamund really was just a bit strange?

Or kind?

"I'm sure I'd live m'lady. I should warn you though, I don't know what they'll say about me."

"Oh my dear," Rosamund's fingers threaded through hers as she shuffled down the bed to get comfortable. "Do you really imagine I'll care?"

* * *

Inevitably Rosamund's hand slipped around her waist in the night as Vera has suspected it eventually would. The housemaid she'd slept next to for three years had been a bit queer after dark and possessed roaming hands; Vera couldn't say she'd minded all that much seeing as how she wasn't expected to reciprocate and though she'd felt strange at the time it hadn't exactly been unpleasant so she'd let it carry on.

Rosamund curled closer in the middle of the night and the first Vera knew about it was when she woke up with hair tickling her cheek and an unfamiliar weight against her side. Eyelids flickering she'd vaguely registered that it was comfortable before falling back to sleep. When she woke up Rosamund was back on her side of the bed – and it occurred to Vera afterwards how odd it was that they had _sides_ now – and looking as though she'd been there all night.

The next day Vera wondered whether she'd imagined it in the night and she didn't like to think what backwards part of her brain had conjured up that particular dream.

The following night she woke up to find Rosamund curled against her side again, arm around her waist but this time with her fingers wondering higher under the covers. Vera almost rolled her eyes: apparently she was going to have to live through having her breasts groped in the night again. The brush of Rosamund's thumb through her new nightdress nearly made her gasp but she kept herself under control, pretending to be asleep as best she could.

The gentle graze of Rosamund's thumb nail skimmed the underside of her breast and slowly made its way up the swell of her chest, tracing circles through the soft material until Vera thought she might go mad with light touch. Rosamund's fingers were getting closer and closer to the peak where she could feel her nipple hardening against the fabric.

Against her side Rosamund shuffled closer and Vera could almost _feel_ her smirking despite her eyes being closed. She wasn't sure whether Rosamund knew she was awake or not, certainly she was going out of her way to keep her breathing as regular as possible, but her lady seemed to be enjoying herself either way. Vera had the vague notion that she should be troubled by the advance but somehow she couldn't bring herself to be.

This was no mere exploring housemaid after all, this was Lady Rosamund Painswick who had been her ticket to a more comfortable life, who was _still _her best bet against Johnny and his tart, and who now wanted something from her she had nearly been obliged to give to other employers. At least Rosamund was a better prospect that the supposed gentlemen who had tried it on with her and though the redhead was the wrong side of fifty she at least looked good for it.

She felt a shudder go through her whole body the moment Rosamund finally brushed her thumb over her nipple and as suddenly as she had started Rosamund stopped her groping and returned her hand swiftly to Vera's waist. Vera mourned the loss of contact and cursed herself for moving – she must have unnerved the other woman into thinking she was waking her up!

Vera waited on the off chance that her stillness might prompt Rosamund back into action but nothing was forthcoming. Rosamund's breath against the side of her face wasn't making it easier to forget that her body was betraying her and waking up as it hadn't done so in years, which was horribly inconvenient.

What felt like hours later Rosamund's fingers twitched again and a brief stab of hope came over Vera but they both remained still. Cautiously she opened her eyes in the dark, letting them adjust for a moment before glancing downwards, careful not to dislodge the other woman, only to find eyes staring up at her curiously.

"How long have you been awake?"

Vera raised her eyebrow at the tone: half Rosamund's usual mockingly melodious voice and half something that might have been concern. She waited a while before she answered, feeling the tension in the other woman's body with a satisfied smirk.

"Long enough."

"Good."

Rosamund pushed herself up and quite suddenly Vera found herself being kissed thoroughly and expertly. There was no tentativeness – not that Lady Rosamund Painswick had any reason to suspect she wouldn't get her way – and Vera pressed her lips back. Rosamund's tongue demanded insistent entry and Vera was not one to turn away from a challenge, nor to be bested by someone else's advances. She reached up to hold tight to the back of Rosamund's head, holding her in place as she rolled them over, slipping beneath the soft sheets with the movement.

The silky satin of Rosamund's nightdress was glorious under her hands as she stroked up a sleek side and when she reached the swell of a soft breast under her palm she imitated her lady's earlier touch with less hesitance than Rosamund herself had shown. Well-manicured nails dug into her back and Vera smiled around the kiss when she felt Rosamund's fingers dance up her back and across her neck to unbraid the dark coil that lay there and free her hair.

"It'll be a state in the morning."

"I should hope so," Rosamund managed to get out around gasps elicited by Vera's hand sliding deftly down her side and sliding pointedly under the hem of her nightdress, bunching it around slender thighs. "Or else we wouldn't be doing it right at all."

* * *

"_This_ is for me?"

Rosamund's arms slid around her waist from behind and Vera felt an angular chin dig into her shoulder as the other woman rested on her to look at the same sight she was seeing.

"I thought you'd like it."

It was rather startling to Vera to discover that not only were there parts of Rosamund's garden that she had never noticed before, but somehow Rosamund, not known for her discretion, had managed to install a greenhouse on the lawn without her even hearing it being put up! But regardless of her disbelief there it stood, a greenhouse the size of her mother-in-law's living room nestled in a leafy corner of the garden, surrounded by a wall of ivy on two sides and open to the sunlight on the other two. Inside the glass walls there were tools she'd never seen before along with the usual recognisable things, tables filled with pots and watering jugs and in the corner –

"Why is there an armchair?"

"So I can come and sit with you of course!"

Vera rolled her eyes but smiled despite herself and let Rosamund push her towards the greenhouse. The redhead opened the glass doors and the sun warmed air trapped inside engulfed them as they climbed over the threshold. The mossy smell of new soil reached her nose and her fingers itched towards the pretty padded gloves on the table.

"I wasn't sure what to get, so I just told them to send everything and you could pick what you needed."

Vera nodded lamely at the generosity. The pleasures of casual gardening apparently meant something quite different to Rosamund than they did to her; whilst she'd always made do with old tools and whatever patch of land she could find this was like the bloody promised land of her long-abandoned hobby.

Rosamund's face fell.

"You don't look thrilled."

"I wouldn't know what to do with half of these things."

"Well you can learn can't you," Rosamund smirked as she picked up a trowel and held it as though it was a fork, the sparkle coming back to her eyes. "You're a quick study after all."

Vera's eyebrow twitched at the suggestive gleam in the other woman's gaze but she was becoming more and more accustomed to having Rosamund's smirk her daily companion and she was soon able to return the vaguely salacious look.

"You just want me to name a rose after you."

Rosamund rolled her eyes and tossed the trowel onto the table with studied care, carefully treading on the stone path laid down in the greenhouse to cover the soil beneath in her crimson suede shoes. She reached out a hand to press at Vera's hip and with bemusement Vera let herself be pushed pointedly backwards until she was sat on the chair and Rosamund was making use of the cover of the ivy to pin her to her seat.

"God no." She smirked and leant down to press a fluttering and teasing kiss to the corner of Vera's lips. "With a name like mine the gardeners at Downton were falling over themselves to grow _roses_ for me. I'm quite bored of them."

Vera slipped her hand from its resting spot on Rosamund's slim hip down towards the hemline of the dress that was the same shade as the shoes and gave her lady the look of a flame. Underneath the dress she knew Rosamund wasn't wearing altogether much and sure enough her fingers soon found the top of stockings, held up by a will and a prayer and nothing else, and she could feel the heat rising between the other woman's thighs.

Rosamund gasped and finally kissed her properly when she gripped her thigh tighter with possessive fingers

"What do you want then? A _lily_?" Vera wrinkled up her nose as Rosamund started fiddling with the buttons of her blouse, affecting lack of interest, which she knew didn't fool her smirking mistress for a second when long thin fingers reached up to draw idle patterns on the telling flush of her neck. "Too bland for you… What about an orchid?"

"Ooh, an orchid I think."

Rosamund leaned back and smirked merrily as she peeled away Vera's blouse and greedily ran her eyes and fingers over the pale, soft flesh of her corset-constrained breasts. Her fingertips slid under the material, pulling open the top three clasps one by one and Vera slipped her hand higher until she had Rosamund's hip in her grasp. Their eyes never broke contact and Rosamund licked her lips as she leant in to suckle at the point just under Vera's ear.

"What made you think of it?"

"Colourful, flamboyant, lots of effort...more trouble that they're worth," she grinned and rolled them over on the chaise, making Rosamund gasp at the suddenness. "Sounds about right."

* * *

The silence was palpable, extremely uncomfortable and Vera was determined that she would not let it get to her. She sipped her soup with pointed calmness and barely looked up from her food, despite the fact that she could see others out of the edges of her vision who were yet to pick up their spoons such was their disgust.

Jesus suffering fuck, you'd think she was the actual devil incarnate!

To her immediate right she could just about make out Miss O'Brien but that intractable face was never going to give her much indication of what was going on around the table. Rolling her eyes to herself for a moment Vera took the initiative and looked up sharply. Opposite and on her left the housemaids and the footmen opposite _them _didn't even break in their flirtations but then her presence was hardly likely to upset the young people downstairs. Without any shame she met Anna's gaze and felt like she could almost _taste_ the hate coming off the other woman and it only served to amuse her. Next to Anna John was staring at the wall and looking like someone had force fed him a vinegar soaked rag and the housekeeper and butler weren't looking much more welcoming than they had an hour ago.

The moment they'd arrived at Downton things had been awkward. Getting out of the car with Rosamund had been fine, the rest of the family were hardly likely to pay a new lady's maid too much attention and the staff were all inside, but before she could begin the reluctant trudge to the servant's entrance Rosamund had indicated for her to follow through the front door. She hadn't hesitated but she hadn't missed the Earl's face either and when the butler had caught her eye the first tendrils of recognition seemed to be hitting him.

It was her own bloody fault really. She wished she could pretend she'd been coerced into heading up to Downton Abbey, or at least that she'd been offered no choice in the matter but she'd only be lying to herself. Over the last fortnight Rosamund had thoughtfully asked her at least once a day whether having to see her husband and his young lover would prove uncomfortable and Vera had replied in the negative each time. There wasn't much else she _could_ say – how could she explain to Rosamund the intricacies of what she still felt for her husband without belittling the relationship that they were embarking on together?

At the moment it was the memory of Rosamund's lips on her skin and the gleam in her eyes that was getting her through this lunch, which boded well for _their_ affair at least and made her feel curious about why she was still bothering with John at all.

Being sat between Miss O'Brien and this Corporal Barrow – at the suggestion of the pair themselves –had been her first and only stroke of luck and whether they knew it or not they had been making the whole experience rather entertaining by acting as thought she was unknown to them. They'd passed the bread and poured the water and Corporal Barrow had ever recommended the garlic butter and the three of them had earned more glares between them in the space of five minutes than Vera would guess the staff of Downton had given in five years. Taking her lead from the flanking paid she'd followed suit, not explaining a single thing about her appearance at the house other than to say she was Lady Rosamund's lady's maid, and silently making her way through the food the kitchen maid had served, eyes wide at the tenseness in the room but not brave enough to actually speak.

One of the bells on the wall rang and Vera's eyes went to it along with everyone else's.

"I believe it's her ladyship's in the sitting room Miss O'Brien."

"She'll want tea at this time of day, for her and Lady Rosamund."

Vera's eyes perked up and she wasn't hungry all of a sudden and after a split second of hesitation as O'Brien got to her feet Vera followed suit.

"I'll give you a hand."

A mirthless laugh came from John and she turned back to him with a firmly set face. O'Brien had been half way out of the door heading towards the kitchen but now she stopped and watched the pair with eager eyes and Vera hoped that this woman really did hate John as much as he'd said she did.

"Something funny Johnny?"

"I'm sure Miss O'Brien can manage to make tea by herself. Or is there a reason you won't stay on your own?"

She narrowed her eyes and wasn't sure what she might have done if she hadn't felt a hand pointedly being placed in the small of her back to lead her out of the door.

"You clearly don't know how particular Lady Rosamund can be Mr Bates," O'Brien piped up. "It's just as well his lordship's quite simple really, for your sake."

* * *

"Why doesn't she call you Bates?"

Vera rolled her eyes but smiled as she exhaled a long stream of smoke into the cold air with her new friend. There was some coincidence in the fact that of the three whole people she'd met in the last five years that she could stand two of them came from this bloody house, but who was she to question fate when she had a cigarette in hand and Rosamund had called her _'a gem'_ in front of Lady Grantham and being on the verge of telling Cora all about her troubles when she and O'Brien had left the sitting room.

"When she interviewed me I told her about everything with John-" She ignored the twitch of O'Brien's eyebrow and knew that the other woman was quite aware that might not have told Lady Rosamund _everything_. "And she said she didn't want to remind me of him all the time."

O'Brien's face remained impassive for a moment and Vera felt her insides clench with concern. John and Rosamund alike had told her that Sarah O'Brien was considerably more astute than most others in the house – John had cited Mrs Hughes as her chief rival but Rosamund had laughed that off and proclaimed the Dowager her only equal in observation – and Vera panicked for a moment that her tone might have given her away. In the safety of Eaton Square she'd almost forgotten what it was to worry about other people and what they thought, but once again she found herself face to face with the outside world and the horrible possibility that it could tear apart her happiness with terrible ease.

But she was reprieved when O'Brien merely sniffed dismissively an inhaled her own cigarette.

"She always was a bit strange."

Vera smiled as slyly as she ever had but inside she felt the coils uncurl rapidly, making her whole body sag with relief as she sat down on the bench and it was no strain to put mocking effrontery into her tone.

"She's been very good to me I'll have you know."

"Oh I'm sure she has," O'Brien followed suit opposite her and observed her curiously. "Twelve years I've been at Downton and Lady Rosamund's had nearly twice as many lady's maids."

Vera narrowed her eyes slightly, not sure whether she was receiving a threat or advice.

"And?"

"And nothing. I just wondered what made you so special."

Vera grimaced and lifted her cigarette again, defiantly meeting O'Brien's gaze. The other woman was no fool and neither did she seem like the sort that would be intimidated with ease and with her position below stairs so precarious she couldn't afford to make an enemy of someone like Sarah O'Brien.

"I'm more of a paid companion."

"I see."

Bollocks, Vera thought. That couldn't be good could it? O'Brien smiled to herself and changed the subject to their train journey and the atmosphere in London with the war on and Vera answered, all the while reminding herself that at least she hadn't made an enemy.

* * *

Sarah O'Brien had spent part of the afternoon collecting evidence from the unwitting suspect, another part mocking Mr Molesley for both her and her new friend's amusement in the servant's hall, yet another part having a good look around Lady Rosamund's bedroom until she found something very telling, and the most wonderful part in Cora Crawley's bed. All in all she thought it had been one of her most productive days in a long time and she'd rewarded herself by having Cora twice before she let her lady return the favour and then fall into her arms for the afterglow.

Curled against her slick skin Cora's body was much thinner but no less spectacular for it. With breasts still as high and firm as they'd been when Sarah had come to Downton well over a decade ago, waist showing no sign of thickening despite Cora's constant worry that one day her mother's figure might catch up with her and legs just as flexible as someone half her age's Sarah didn't think there was a single person in the world she would enjoy making love to half as much as her Lady Grantham and with Cora all but purring as she dozed against her propped up torso and a cigarette clutched between the fingers of her other hand Sarah nearly forgot about the interesting facts she'd come across that day. Only _nearly _though. If there was one thing Sarah O'Brien did not do despite her role having long since been upgraded to lover rather than just downstairs spy, it was forget to tell Cora all the secrets she had uncovered.

Sarah contemplated for a moment the best way to tell Cora. She'd always harboured half a concern that should Cora find out Rosamund was a bit Sapphically inclined as well then she'd be booted out of the bed before she knew what had hit her so the glamorous redhead could take her place, but she knew that was foolhardy. She could speak in riddles, one of her favourite games with Cora, just to see how frustrated she could make her ladyship before the penny dropped and Cora realised what she was going on about. It had helped her make her sister's fourth child seem halfway interesting when she'd passed that _happy_ news onto Cora at any rate.

But no, this was far too delicate a subject for her to beat about the bush and with a final drag on her cigarette and a kiss pressed against Cora's forehead to make sure her lady was awake and paying attention she blurted out:

"Rosamund's shagging her maid too y'know?"

Cora's eyes went immediately wide and she sat up with her mouth open in surprise, looking at her lover as though she'd just announced she was off to Russia to join the circus.

"What?!"

Sarah smiled and perched her cigarette in the little ashtray Cora had taken to keeping in the bedside drawer for her, bringing it out for their afternoon trysts along with a packet of cigarettes that were there to make Robert think his wife had merely picked up the habit should he come across them. She grinned widely and swung her body around to get off the bed, walking to where her dress had dropped well over an hour ago to crouch down and rummage in the pockets. She felt eyes on her and glanced over her shoulder to find Cora paying very little attention to what she was looking for and entirely more attention to the swell of her backside as she leant over. She smirked and got to her feet, holding her prize behind her and sauntering back to the bed, clambering on and falling into Cora's waiting arms with a soft sigh. Lips caught hers and she groaned at the back of her throat at the same moment as Cora when the length of their bodies pressed together and she felt her thigh putting pressure on the wetness between Cora's thighs.

But that was for later. With a reluctant groan and a final kiss to Cora's nose she rolled off her lover and was met with a kittenish whimper.

"Can't your theories wait darling?"

"Not this one."

She tossed onto her lap the folded up nightdress she'd found at the bottom of Lady Rosamund's trunk. Rolling her eyes at being denied Cora pushed herself into a sitting position with an exaggerated sigh of annoyance, but curiosity still got the better of her and she took it from Sarah's lap, unfolding what was undoubtedly silk and spreading it in front of her. The nightdress was beautiful, perfect even and Cora could see immediately that this had come from an excellent seamstress rather than from any old shop. She ran her fingers over the soft swell of the fabric that allowed for breasts and the pearl buttons at the front that would fasten someone in and be ever so much fun to unhook one by one with someone – say Sarah, her mind supplied with a wicked grin – lying beneath her waiting to be made love to. Perhaps they could borrow it?!

"It's lovely but I don't see how it proves anything."

Cora looked up into the smug face of her lover as Sarah smoked on and knew there was something that her maid's eagle eye had spotted that she wasn't seeing and if she wanted to know she was going to have to ask because Sarah was enjoying this far too much.

"Oh for goodness sake darling," she reached out to pluck the cigarette from Sarah's fingers, bringing it up to her own lips and refusing to give it back despite Sarah's protest. "Tell me what you can see before you burst with it."

Cora shook her head in bemusement when the other woman's face fell. She did love Sarah but good god she was a gossip-monger and sometimes she was so pleased with herself that Cora would have thrown her from her presence for insolence if it wasn't for the fact that most of the time Sarah was pleased with herself because of the positively athletic display her tongue could put on when she wanted it to.

"It's the sizing," Sarah sat forward and ran her fingers over the chest of the nightdress, judging quite correctly that she was also stroking Cora's thigh as her fingers brushed over the silk. Her ladyship gasped and Sarah leant in with a wicked grin to kiss her, stealing back the cigarette afterwards and shuffling closer until they were hip to hip on the bed. "This'd fit Lady Rosamund I suppose but look at the chest." Cora did as she was told. "She either likes to sleep in a nightdress that'll flash her tits at anyone that comes in the rooms or else this is Vera's."

Cora blushed, as she always did when Sarah swore and she buried her face in Sarah's neck, quite prepared to believe her but also considerably more interested in her own bedroom antics than she was her sister-in-law's. Perhaps later they could discuss it properly, when Sarah had to dress her for dinner and they couldn't afford to get too hands on in case Robert or one of the girls came in unexpectedly, and their attentions couldn't be taken up with much more satisfying pursuits.

"So what if it does belong to Mrs Bates?"

Sarah rolled her eyes but knew better than to be petulant when Cora's lips started the trail from under her ear that Sarah knew from experience would travel lasciviously down her throat, eagerly to her breasts, softly over her stomach before attacking her sex roughly. She put out her cigarette with one hand, kicked the nightdress to the bottom of the bed where it wouldn't be creased and pulled Cora closer with her other hand, rolling her lady on top of her body where she liked her best.

So what if the silk was Vera's? Weren't they entitled to this pleasure too?

* * *

One long-fingered hand was gripping her thigh and the other held her hip in place as Rosamund's assaulting mouth finally moved where she wanted it. Vera's back curled and she reached above herself to wrap her fingers around the headboard of the bed, gripping the bar tightly and biting her lip to stifle the gasp that threatened to spill out. Her breath came raggedly from the back of her throat and her whole body tensed as Rosamund's tongue swept upwards and teased the bundle of nerves at the apex of her sex.

Her lady enjoyed the hunt and the kill as much as any sportswoman did and it had been a good hour at least since Vera had come up to the guest bedroom to draw a bath, imitating Miss O'Brien's actions so as not to appear suspicious to the staff. They didn't need to know that Lady Rosamund preferred to take her baths last thing at night with her maid soaking behind her, running sopping fingers through her hair as they both drank dubonnet and gin cocktails. But from the moment she'd closed the door behind her, remembering to lock it only at the last minute, Rosamund had all but mauled her into submission and teased her to the point of agony.

Her lady liked to have her like this most of all. It was probably something to do with dominance but Vera didn't really care all that much – Rosamund could pretend to be the Queen of fucking Sheba for all she cared, as long as she got to be her acolyte. The long build-up was paying dividends for them both now and with each stroke of Rosamund's nimble and recently well-practiced tongue on her tender flesh she could feel her climax growing. Sensing the inevitable – somewhere deep inside her Rosamund had a tremendous instinct for sex that Vera envied – the redhead added pressure along with her languorous strokes and Vera shoved her hand quickly in her mouth to stem the breathy cries, biting into her palm instead and glaring down at the top of russet curls when Rosamund didn't cease until she was quite sure she'd been triumphant.

"Christ almighty."

Vera pushed herself into a sitting position and wrapped her hand around the back of Rosamund's head as the other woman crawled to her knees and their lips met in a searing kiss. The taste was odd as ever and were they at Eaton Square with no one to bother them for the rest of the day they'd wash it away with a drink but there wasn't the time for that if they had to bathe and dress Rosamund for dinner soon enough.

"I hope you're minding your language downstairs darling?"

Vera rolled her eyes but suffered herself to be kissed again as Rosamund pushed her back down into the pillows and lay herself down on top as a flushed human blanket. The kisses came again, softer and deeper, with Rosamund's tongue apparently being untiring and Vera was just preparing to roll her onto her back when-

"I have a present for you," Rosamund whispered in a low voice in her ear, her breath hot on Vera's neck. She shot off the bed and Vera missed her presence immediately, reaching for a rumpled sheet to pull over her body to keep away the cold air as she watched Rosamund delve into the trunk.

"You're too good to me."

"I know, I'm terribly generous really."

A small frown began to form on her lady's delicate brow and the search in the trunk became a touch more frantic. Vera watched her bemused and appreciated the spectacle.

"I definitely put it in!"

"Oh," Vera crawled to the end of the bed and riffled through the pocket of her skirt until she found her cigarettes and struck one up. "Is this the very secret reason why I had to leave you alone when we were packing your case?"

"Yes! I…" Rosamund was like a child when it came to packing, changing her mind at least half a dozen times over which dresses to bring and whether she would need this or that and when she'd temporarily shoved Vera out of the bedroom door her maid had found it charming. "I think someone's taken it!"

"Taken what?" She crossed the room, draping the sheet around her body like the Roman women in Rosamund's paintings, her hair falling around her shoulders in a wild mess.

"Your present."

"And what was that?"

Rosamund turned on her sharply and Vera was reminded, just for a second, that Lady Rosamund was still the daughter of an Earl and didn't like being questioned more than necessary. Or she might have just been irritable from her moment being ruined.

"A nightdress," she brought her hand up to her forehead and rubbed her temples, pushing red hair out of her eyes until it fell in a naturally attractive arrangement to halfway down her back. If Vera had the get-up of a Roman then Rosamund looked like some kind of brazen, Celtic Queen and it took Vera a moment to register that there was a present involved in this.

She inhaled on her cigarette and passed it to her ersatz mistress, wrapping her arms around Rosamund from behind to keep her warm.

"You bought me a nightdress? If you hadn't noticed I've not been wearing a lot to bed these days."

"That's not the point."

"I know," she brushed a kiss over Rosamund's shoulder and thought about the divorce papers Johnny had shoved into her hands with a scowl when he'd managed to catch her alone for half a second. "It means a lot that you bought it at all and-"

"No, not that." Rosamund, who unbeknownst to her mother was no stranger to a cigarette, inhaled deeply to stem her nerves. "The point is that someone's been in here and someone's taken in." She pressed her lips together and looked over her shoulder to meet Vera's eye, pressing a kiss to her cheek before her face settled into wry acceptance. "And I bet I know just who it is."

* * *

"Rosamund, once and for all, is something wrong?"

Over the rim of her brandy glass Rosamund glared at her sister-in-law. This was the first time all night she had managed to get her alone and she was determined to take the opportunity to grill Cora. For if she was right – and she frequently was – and O'Brien had been the one to steal into her bedroom and snoop through her belongings then there was a distinct possibility that Cora already knew. She couldn't imagine for a second what leverage the lady's maid could gain over her by being in possession of a single silk nightdress, but knowing O'Brien her intentions would be far more complicated than she could possibly fathom.

There was also the extremely annoying fact that a dress tailored for a particular figure had fallen into the hands of the only seamstress in the house and therefore the only person who might spot something unusual about it. And the same person who would pass it straight onto a member of her family.

"Why would anything be wrong?" She narrowed her eyes and gulped down half her brandy in one. "Unless there's a _reason_ you can think of?"

Cora shifted in her seat and tried not to grimace. Sarah had made furious love to her twice more that afternoon and she would much rather be lying down in a bath at the moment: still, it had been worth it even if her lover's afternoon triumphs were leaving her in an awkward situation in more ways than one now. Once she'd been in the bath and not quite as clouded by lust she'd appreciated the significance of the nightdress and had been rather astounded to learn that after all these years Rosamund could still surprise her.

The first few years she'd known the redhead she'd _longed_ to discover that Rosamund was like her but though her sister-in-law had always been affectionate and loving she had never tried anything at all and Cora knew Rosamund well enough to know that if she wanted someone she would take them. It galled her slightly to realise now that _she_ had clearly never been on the list of people that Rosamund had wanted but Cora had at least had the sense not to mention this disappointment to Sarah. Somehow she doubted it was information her lover would be happy about.

There was no need to dwell though, she had Sarah and that was better than any daring tryst with Rosamund would have ever been and now it seemed as though Rosamund had found someone too. Even if Cora was slightly scared of the flinty-eyed woman that had arrived with her sister-in-law and defiantly walked ahead of the Earl through his own front door. In fact it was all rather perfect and if Rosamund would only stop being so suspicious then things would be wonderful and they could talk about it together!

"No reason," she sipped her brandy and looked around to catch Carson's eye when she spotted that Rosamund was rapidly reaching the bottom of her glass. "But you seemed awfully distracted at dinner."

Rosamund handed her glass to Carson and peered into the depths of the amber liquid, as though trying to divine what Cora knew.

"I had something of a shock this afternoon."

"Oh?" Cora raised her eyebrows guilelessly and Rosamund thought it was just as well that Cora had never been a spy: she'd given herself away in a single second by looking _far_ too innocent.

"Yes. Something was taken from my room," she sipped her drink and watched Cora carefully. "So I thought I better speak to Robert or Carson and see if we can catch the culprit."

Cora's face froze.

"Oh, I'm sure there's no need for that."

"Oh I'm quite sure there _is _need."

"No-"

"There's a thief at large Cora-"

"For goodness sake," Cora hissed, suddenly much quieter and much more forceful than Rosamund recalled ever seeing her. "There's only one thief in the house at the moment and we both know it isn't _my_ maid."

Rosamund's eyes flared and she slammed her glass down with force, creating a thump that drew the attention of the others in the room, who eyed them with confusion. Other than a brief time when Cora had first come to England and been nervous as a debutante at her first ball around the older and more world-wise Rosamund no one had anyone seen them be anything other than thick as thieves.

Robert frowned as he watched them even if he wasn't surprised. Despite her occasional strange ideas Cora had been nothing but loyal to him and Downton for all the years she had lived here and he was certain that the fission of tension he could see between his wife and sister must be due to Rosamund's extraordinary bad taste in not only employing Bates' horror of a wife but also bringing the woman here as though it was acceptable. Politeness had dictated that he couldn't exactly turn his sister away from the front door, but he was glad that Cora was taking the time to make their collective feelings known.

He indicated for Carson to bring him and the Dowager another glass each and the room returned to its chatter, leaving Rosamund and Cora still sizing each other up and waiting until they could safely continue.

"I don't know what you're implying."

"People talk Rosamund. Anna says Bates might have been the one who went to jail but he wasn't the one who committed the crime."

Rosamund pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. She was well aware that Vera was no angel but the fact that Cora of all people, Cora who possessed quite possibly the dodgiest lady's maid in the country who Rosamund wouldn't be at all surprised to learn had been somehow personally responsible for half the calamities in the country, was trying to blacken Vera's name in her eyes was intolerable.

"Let them talk."

She got to her feet and ignored the looks from the rest of the room, leaving with her head held high and then all but running up to her bedroom. She pulled on the bell for what felt like hours before the door opened and she realised that there were tears clouding her vision.

"Rosamund?"

Vera's hand was on her cheek, warm and familiar and she cried as the other woman pulled her closer. First thing in the morning she would leave, before the family got up and without saying goodbye because it would serve Cora right to have to think of how to explain the flit, but for now she let Vera hold her in the middle of the room and clung to her lover's back with grasping desperate fingers.

* * *

"It was a mistake."

The train trundled through the countryside towards London and Rosamund was slumped against her side. Sleep had been elusive the night before and Vera hadn't left the bedroom until the morning, when it had been absolutely necessary to head back to the servant's quarters to pack her own bag. She'd considered storming into Miss O'Brien's room and pulling the woman bodily from her bed to demand the return of her bloody present but when she's scowlingly pitched the idea to Rosamund, in an attempt to make her smile, she'd been told not to bother. Rosamund was determined that no one could know save the yard boys who they'd have to pass out the back door so as not to rouse the house by opening the front.

They'd jumped on the first train that was heading anywhere remotely near London and after only one change were hurtling through Oxfordshire, getting ever closer to somewhere that somewhere along the way had become _home_ in Vera's mind. She slid her hand into Rosamund's where it lay between them.

"A mistake?"

"Taking you to Downton."

This was it then. After just one journey Rosamund had realised what a bad lot she was and wanted nothing more to do with her because she had wrenched her away from the comforting bosom of her family in one rash action.

"I see."

"I should have known they'd treat you terribly."

Vera thought about pointing out that for all of Miss O'Brien's thieving tendencies she'd actually been good company – and she didn't have much of a leg to stand on when it came to taking things – and that she'd found to her surprise that she didn't give much of a damn about Johnny anymore. She'd given him back his divorce papers, properly signed and everything and told him she was keeping the house.

"I'm more worried about how Lady Grantham was with you."

"She's never spoken to me like that before," she said miserably.

"What did you say to her again?"

Rosamund curled closer, tiredness seeping into her voice now that they were far away and their life in Eaton Square was beckoning brighter than ever.

"I can barely remember. Something about O'Brien stealing, and then she became most unpleasant about you-"

"I didn't want you to lose _her_ for my sake y'know?"

"I know. And I doubt I have really. I don't want to talk about it though, not now."

Vera nodded and pressed a kiss to Rosamund's head, tired herself and grateful for the upcoming hour of sleep before they reached London. Tomorrow they'd think about the thorny problem of the Countess and her maid and what they might have divined from taking the nightdress, but today they were heading home.

TBC.

* * *

A/N: If you made it this far, thank you for reading :)


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